Music of the Barricades
by BlackWidow4
Summary: Les Miserables/Phantom of the Opera crossover. What if Erik and co. just happened to be in the same part of France as Valjean and his gang?
1. something is over and something has scar...

Eponine Thenardier had loved Marius Pontmercy her whole life. Or most of it, anyway. Or, well, maybe for just the past two years. But he never even looked her way. The only time he talked to her was when he wanted something shady done. Well, she thought with a self-satisfied chuckle, at least he can't count on his other little darling to do that for him.  
  
Yes, he had another girl hanging around with him now. A prissy girl who he had fallen in love with at first sight. "Riiight," she said to herself. "Like it's not going to be another girl tomorrow." Actually she knew it wouldn't be, Marius was a very serious-minded young man, not often succumbing to his emotions.  
  
Sheesh. There they were, right across the street. Eponine ducked into a store, and then immediately ducked out of it. There are too many stores I'm banned from, she thought irritatedly.  
  
No hope for escape now -- Marius and his sweetiepiecutielover were heading her way. She swallowed a groan and flashed her most brilliant smile for Marius. "Well, hello, Cosette and Marius!"  
  
Marius didn't return the smile (dang) but Cosette did (gag). "It's great to see you, 'Ponine!" Miss Sunshine chirped.  
  
"Are you all right?" Eponine asked Marius, directly ignoring the other girl.  
  
Marius looked up at her, still with that adorable preoccupied frown on his face. "You'll never guess what her father is doing."  
  
Eponine was taken aback. Uh, no, she couldn't guess. She'd only seen the old geezer once or twice, but he seemed a pretty interesting guy. Actually kind of cute for being like a hundred and ten. There was a rumor that he'd been mixed up in some illegal activities himself. How a fascinating character like that could raise a wimp like Cosette was beyond her understanding. I mean, sure, Cosette had been ten years old when he took her under his wing, but -- come on! He had another seven years to fix her brain, and had he? No.  
  
And her mom! Her mom was a common prostitute! Now that was interesting, and daring, and risquè. How had this little mushpot come from someone that cool?  
  
"...sea," Marius was finishing.  
  
She realized she had missed the news. "Uh, uh, what'd you say?"  
  
"He's taking himself and Cosette on a journey across the sea."  
  
"A cruise?" she said, moderately interested. Maybe she could sneak on board. That would be entertaining -- and then, in the Caribbean, casually pop up with an, "Oh, Cosette, is this where you were coming? Fancy meeting you here!" But then again, Cosette wasn't a normal girl. She would probably be delighted and squeal back, "Oh, Eponine! It's wonderful to see you!"  
  
"No, he's leaving for good," Marius said with a dismal sigh.  
  
Eponine's heart leapt. FOR GOOD? No more Cosette? No more Marius mooning around after someone else? "You've got to be kidding," she said, barely restraining the smile trying to creep over her face.  
  
Cosette wiped away a tear. "No... we might never return."  
  
"Whoopee," said Eponine. "Err... I mean, how terribly sad." She put on her best sorrowful look. "Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"Could you help Marius while I'm gone?" Cosette said, reaching out for her honeybunny's hand. "Comfort him? Remind him of how I love him?"  
  
Ooooh boy, I'll help him all right! Eponine thought joyously, certain that with Cosette out of the picture, she would be able to turn Marius' affections toward herself. "I'd be glad to," she said. "When do you leave?"  
  
"Day after tomorrow," was the reply.  
  
"We must be going," Marius said, tugging on his snickerdoodle's hand. "I promised to help her pack." He sent a tender gaze Cosette's way. "And then we plan our last day together."  
  
Eponine felt like throwing up and laughing hysterically at the same time. Worried about what kind of reaction something that freakish might bring, she bid her goodbyes to the unhappy couple (YES!) and made her way back toward her home. Or, rather, her house. It's sure not a home, she thought bitterly.  
  
She took a shortcut down a dark alley and, lost in thought, didn't notice the man until she had smashed into him.  
  
Somewhat irritated, she looked up, snarled, "Geddaddahere, will you?" and began to make her way past him, when she noticed something unusual about the man...  
  
He was wearing a mask. 


	2. what new surprises lie in store?

Erik was in a cranky mood, so he went out for a walk.  
  
He couldn't get that one song just right. It was supposed to convey intense rage, intense passion, intense anger. Instead it just sounded like 90's rock music.  
  
The comparison stopped him dead in his tracks. 90's rock music? he thought, baffled. Wha-? Someone must be playing games with my thoughts again. He closed his eyes. Well, he wasn't sure what 90's rock music sounded like, but if it sounded cacauphonous, without any melody or rhythm, just the infernal drum beats, with the performer needing to yell to be heard over the music (if it could even be rightly called music) -- then it did sound like 90's rock music.  
  
And then, Christine was being particularly difficult. No -- difficult? Impossible. He had overheard she and the fool of the century, Raoul de Chagny, pledging themselves to each other on the rooftop last night. The rooftop. As if that was a private place.  
  
What he needed to do, he realized, was simply convince Christine that he was the only one for her, and that Raoul was an ... an ...  
  
The words came to him. "Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in her glory!" he sang out. "Ignorant fool, brave young suitor..." Wait a minute. "Brave"? No, no, not brave. "Wimpy young suitor!" That didn't fit just right.  
  
Curse him, could he do nothing with music today?  
  
He popped up through his trapdoor on Alley Street, so named because it was ... well, an alley. Silently he climbed up onto the ground, pulled the trapdroor shut behind him, and proceeded to walk forward right into another person, who muttered under their breath and started to walk around him.  
  
What was a person doing here in a deserted alley? At midnight? With horror, he looked around and realized that it was broad daylight. But his alarm clock had said -- 12:00. Oh no. 12 noon, not 12:00 midnight. "CURSE IT!"  
  
The person, who, he noticed, had not moved around him, looked up at him and said, "Well, and what are you so uptight about? All I did was bump into you."  
  
Surprised, he looked down at the person, who he saw now was a young girl, maybe eighteen years old, her hands on her hips and a look of disgust on her face. He gave her no answer, but scowled and turned around to return to his underground lair.  
  
"It's a dead end," the girl pointed out helpfully. "You'll want to go the other way. Besides, what are you doing in a dead-end alley? Smuggling drugs?"  
  
"Leave me alone, please," he said, utilizing the tone of voice that always made people cringe and cower and obey. But to his surprise, the girl did none of these. She just rolled her eyes and muttered something about "cranky old guys" under her breath.  
  
He swung around, angrily retorting, "I am not old!"  
  
She said nothing, just looked up at him with an astounding lack of fear in her expression.  
  
"I'm 37, I'm hardly old." Actually, he was 50-something, but that was not old either.  
  
"Well, maybe you're not old," she said calmly, "but you're certainly cranky. And crazy, too. I mean, think about it. You walk out of an alley, smash into me, scream, and walk back into the alley. Does nothing about this make you think 'crazy'? Or maybe even 'senile'?"  
  
He was about to retort, but then realized she was right. It was an odd thing, if one did not know he was the Phantom of the Opera, and could disappear into thin air (with a little help from his trapdoors). He didn't smile, but lessened his scowl. This seemed to please the girl. "So what are you doing wandering around in an alley?"  
  
Erik shrugged. "I was feeling a need for space. A walk, to concentrate on my music." He squinted up at the sun. "I miscalculated ... this is definitely the wrong time for my walk." He glanced back at the trapdoor, the outline of which could not be seen but he knew it was there. "I should be getting back."  
  
"Do you walk at night?" The girl's eyes seemed to brighten. "I do. Sometimes I walk alone at night, when everybody else is sleeping. When the city goes to bed, then I can live inside my head."  
  
Erik glanced at this girl again with more interest. Very few people dared to walk the streets of Paris at night, even fewer enjoyed it. There were supposedly vagabonds and knaves about in the streets at night. In truth, the vagabonds and knaves were all in bed, sleeping soundly, knowing that there would be nobody out on the streets at night.  
  
"Live inside your head?" he asked after a moment.  
  
She nodded. "I have ... someone ... who I think about when I walk."  
  
Aha. A crush-ridden teenager. He dismissed it in his mind. Naturally it was someone who didn't love her back. As if she could know the obsessive passion of true desire, true love at this age. He knew that what he felt for Christine was far deeper than what any two students could feel for each other.  
  
"So, what's your name?" The girl edged closer. She seemed to be fascinated with him, and he found it a rather thrilling feeling. Christine had been this way, too, before she had removed the mask and seen the hideous creature he was underneath.  
  
"Erik," he said bruntly but not unpleasantly. "And yours?" He nearly bit his tongue. Now she would probably consider them practically betrothed. Well, they would surely never see each other again. When he walked, he would walk in sections of town a young girl would not dare to go, they were so infamous.  
  
"Eponine Thenardier," she replied cheerfully. "Are you busy tonight?" 


	3. love is the garden of the young

Cosette loved ships, except when she got seasick, which was, well, all the time. But other than that she loved them. iShe loves everything,/i Valjean thought with a contented smile, which was immediately followed by a frown. iEven that boy./i He disliked Marius intensely. Not only was he a fool, he was a rebellious fool, who had left the safety of his grandfather's wallet and set out on his own to make his own living. Marius and Cosette would be a horrific match, with Cosette so sweet and Marius so abrupt. But perhaps she saw a side of the lad that Valjean himself didn't see.  
  
Now, Marius' friend, Eponine, there was another unsavory character. But Cosette even managed to find some good in her. "She's such fun to be around," his daughter had stated just the other night. "And she's really quite sweet. She's even promised to keep Marius company while I'm gone." Then one of those lovely embarrassed blushes crossed her face and she looked down at her sewing.  
  
iKeep him company? Ah! She'll steal him from behind my Cosette's back!/i  
  
But wait . . . that's what he wanted. Ah, it was so difficult to keep track of what he really wanted. He reassured himself that he /i Eponine to steal Marius, so that Cosette's heart would be broken, but quickly mended, and she could find some nice, sensible man and marry him so that when he, himself, was dead and gone, she would have someone to turn to.  
  
He noticed she was standing near the rail of the ship, and hurried to her. "My Cosette, what on earth are you doing?" he cried out. "You know sailing always makes you dizzy."  
  
"But it's so beautiful up here, Father," she said sweetly, looking him in the eye. "And I couldn't bear to stay cooped up in that cabin, sick and miserable. At least here I can be sick and happy."  
  
He couldn't quite follow her logic, but he shrugged his consent. "I suppose you can stay out here. But be careful -- if you should fall overboard -- "  
  
"Oh, I shall take care, Father," she assured him. "Why, how lightheaded I am -- Oh!"  
  
And with that, she toppled over the side, and into the water.  
  
"Oh! My daughter! My daughter!" he cried out, frantically pointing at Cosette, sinking down fast. "Someone, please save my daughter!"  
  
"I shall save her!" came a young man's voice, and in a flash someone had dived over the edge. In fact, several someones had dived over the edge. Or, no, only several some/i. Several life rafts and life savers had been thrown over the edge, and people called down for Cosette to grab on to one of them. She did so, and was hoisted up quickly. Sobbing and sopping, she threw herself into the arms of her father.  
  
"I shall never disobey you again, Father!" she cried out. "Why, I nearly died because of my disobedience this time!"  
  
He patted her back lovingly and said, "There, there, all is forgiven. Just be more careful next time. And don't forget your medication."  
  
"I won't."  
  
He nodded. After a moment, he looked around. "Where is the young man that dove in to save you?"  
  
Cosette looked concerned. "I did not see him, but everything happened so fast . . ." She looked down into the water and screamed. "He is still down there!"  
  
iHe is?/i Valjean peered over and, sure enough, there was the brave young man, floundering around in the water, calling, "Where are you? I will save you!" iWell, he may not have much in the way of brains, but he's certainly chivalrous. And persistent./i He tossed a life raft over the side, and loudly instructed the boy to hold on to it.  
  
"But I am to save a woman's life!" the boy called up.  
  
"She is safe and up here; now save your own life before the ship leaves you behind!"  
  
The boy stopped his wild thrashing and looked up at the older man. "She is? Well, then, gabubble ambagubba, lubbagubble!"  
  
"Grab onto the life raft!" Valjean called over to the side to the boy, who, now that his legs and arms were no longer working to keep him afloat, had silently sunken down below the waters. "Quickly!" 


End file.
